Negative Space
by kakashis-porn-stash
Summary: AU. Genma is an art major starved for inspiration. He never thought he would find it in the naked model in his drawing class. (Kakashi/Genma)


Summary: AU. Genma is an art major starved for inspiration. He just never thought he would find it in the naked model in his drawing class. (Kakashi/Genma)

Notes: Because there's a mournful lack of multichapter Genma AUs out there. As an artist myself, this has been a lot of fun to write! I only wish I could've had someone as hot as Kakashi pose for my class...one can only dream. Enjoy, and thanks for leaving feedback!

* * *

 **Negative Space**

 **-1-**

"Yo, Shiranui - you been huffing glue over there, or what? You haven't touched your sketchpad for the last ten minutes." An eraser bounces off Genma's shoulder. Class is almost over, and all he's sketched is the crude outline of a chair.

"Nah. Just hungover." He closes his eyes and sees vivid apocalyptic landscapes, samurai drenched in blood and fury, women dancing among the stars. But they slip out of reach, unfurling like smoke before he can channel them through his pencil.

"You're doing it wrong, man. Booze works. Look at Van Gogh," Kotetsu scoffs.

Genma rolls his eyes. "This is coming from the guy who drank six shots of Everclear and still managed to ace his Chem final the next day. You're on a different plane entirely, dude."

"You're right. I'm above all of you sorry mortals," Kotetsu laughs.

The conversation dies off naturally and gives way to an intimidating silence and a mostly blank page staring Genma in the face, reminding him of just how barren his final portfolio is. Judging by the tense aura in the room, he isn't the only one feeling the pressure. Cornish College of the Arts is one of Seattle's most competitive schools, and after four long years of working his ass off, the final stretch toward graduation feels more exhausting than he anticipated.

After class ends, Genma heads to Wheelhouse for a shot of espresso. Work starts in an hour and there's no way he can do without caffeine. Per usual, the coffee shop is packed with other kids from Cornish and a few regulars who hang out to edit their screenplays and people watch.

When Genma walks in the door and sees a Cardinals jersey near the back of the line, his stomach falls into his shoes. There's only one guy he knows that would actually wear their home team's rival jersey in public, and it's Hiroaki. It's been almost 2 months since the break up and they've miraculously managed to avoid each other until now. The idea of having to make bullshit chit-chat and pretend they didn't used to fuck like it was the end of the world, wax poetic about their dreams and spend hours sketching each other is more than a little nauseating.

"Shit," Genma mutters under his breath, turning on his heel. Seattle is a big city, but he can't dodge Hiroaki forever. He's already blown off two exhibitions this month because he knew Hiroaki would be there. It doesn't help that they run with most of the same circles, but at least Hiroaki already graduated last semester.

He catches the 40 into downtown and kills time at the old piers, watches the sun glint off the water and indulges in his first smoke of the day. There isn't a cloud in the sky, but he couldn't feel any worse. He scrolls through Facebook and sees a new status update from Sheldon Tran; evidently, he got the gallery space at Foster/White, and it makes Genma feel like hurling his phone into the Sound. It's not like he isn't happy for the guy, but it's a painful reminder that he's only been able to show his art at the main gallery on campus. Foster/White is a huge deal.

As Genma heads off to work, his mind inevitably wanders to what will happen in the space between graduation and the Future. It's not like it's his dream to end up working at Ferensoft Gallery and Framing for the rest of his life. He's thrown around the idea of going to grad school, buying himself more time to build up his skills, but the idea of incurring even more debt isn't all that appealing. He's getting by paycheck to paycheck as it is.

As usual, he walks into the office and is greeted by a state of caffeinated organized chaos. Mei is barking at someone in her office, and several of the framers are huddled together and arguing loudly about whether a frame in beige or ivory would look better with a Guy Anderson nude.

"Hey," Rich says. "Where you been?"

"Trying to get my shit together and failing miserably." Genma laughs as he sets his bag down, but he's not really kidding. Mei gave him yesterday off for the first time in months, but he didn't do much else with it other than doodling crappy thumbnails, taking out the trash and indulging in the X-Files with a pint of Smirnoff.

"Well, good thing you showed up. Alex fucked up the Gonzalez project, and the boss lady is pissed. We've been getting calls from the client all morning. I already have my hands full over here," Rich says.

"Yeah, I got it covered," Genma sighs. "Don't worry."

"Cool, cool," Rich nods. He just picked out a vintage gold frame for that awesome Takashi Murakami piece that just came in, and honestly, Genma is a little jealous.

"By the way, I got an invite to this exhibition you'd probably like at the Henry next Saturday. You should bring a friend. Maybe a hot date," Rich says, waggling his eyebrows.

Genma just rolls his eyes. "Sure," he mutters, examining the flyer Rich handed to him. He hasn't been to a show in weeks, and he's itching for some inspiration. It's probably just what he needs to get refocused.

"Thanks, man." Genma gives Rich a pat on the back.

"Don't mention it," Rich says. "I'm just glad you're the one doing damage control this time - I don't think I can stand listening to Mei bitch about her divorce for another second."

Over the last two months, their boss has been reeling from a nasty separation and hasn't refrained from using it as an excuse for her dour moods and demands. Genma puts on a tight smile as he walks toward Mei's office, figuring it could be worse - at least he's not living out the starving artist stereotype. (Well, not yet.)

-o-

Thursday rolls around, and Genma heads over to the McNulty building in the morning for his advanced drawing class. When he walks in, he notices everyone has their desks in a semi-circle around a platform with a chair on top of it in the center of the room. He grabs a tabletop easel and sits down next to Kotetsu.

"Hey," Kotetsu says.

"What's up?" Genma asks, gesturing toward the platform.

"You forgot? We're doing life drawing this class," Kotetsu replies. "Think we'll get treated to some T&A? Oh, wait - you're exclusively doing dick these days. I forgot."

"Shut up," Genma laughs. "How many times do I have to tell you I'm bi, asshole?"

"I never said you aren't," Kotetsu says, poking his arm with a pencil. "Your last two dates were dudes, though. Just saying."

"Actually, I hooked up with some chick named Jenny Han last month," Genma says. "She was okay, I guess. Cute, but she had this weird obsession with horseback riding. Oh, and she didn't know jack shit about art."

"Yeah, but seriously - half the chicks in the Art department are completely insane," Kotetsu mutters, looking grim. "You don't want to deal with that shit, trust me. Remember when I went out with Olivia McMichaels last year? She ended up totally trashing one of my sketchbooks."

"That's because you cheated on her. Twice."

"That's beside the point!" Kotetsu groans. "How would you feel if you saw your best creations floating around campus like trash?"

"Guess that's why I don't cheat," Genma says, shrugging.

Kotetsu rolls his eyes. "All I'm saying is that you're way too picky, dude." Genma considers that Kotetsu might have a point; he ended his last potential dating relationship when the guy talked about Kanye West during a gallery opening. But can he really fault himself for having high standards? A few minutes later, Dr. Sadowski walks in and everyone quiets down.

"Okay! So, I'm sure most of you are already aware that we have a special guest today," Dr. Sadowski says, smiling in excitement. "Drawing from life is one of the best ways we as artists can improve our skills, so I'm sure you'll all find this beneficial. It goes without saying, but do make sure to show our model respect and courtesy during class." A moment later, a guy in a robe walks in and stands by the whiteboard - and it just so happens that he's good looking. Very good looking, actually.

"Damn," Kotetsu whispers. "Oh well. I'm sure you're thrilled, huh?"

Genma doesn't reply. It's not like there aren't plenty of good looking people on campus, but there's something distinctly different about him. Maybe it's the unique ash color of his hair or the tiny scar beneath his left eye - Genma has always been a sucker for eccentricities and imperfections.

"Yo," the model says, giving a short wave. "My name is Kakashi. Nice to meet you guys." The class murmurs a collective greeting. The girls stare in hypnotic fascination and Genma leans on the edge of his seat as Kakashi starts to undress. When the robe hits the ground, Genma's heart does too.

"Dr. Sadowski is a fucking sadist," he hisses under his breath. It's going to be impossible to concentrate.

"Tell me about it," Kotetsu whispers. "She's never given me anything above a B minus." Genma inwardly groans and wishes his friend weren't so dense.

The scratching sound of pencils, graphite and charcoal against paper fills the room along with Dr. Sadowski's ambient playlist. For the first twenty minutes, Genma simply observes their model. He has his foot resting over his knee, his arms loosely folded and eyes cast serenely toward the ground, as if he weren't sitting buck naked in front 35 strangers. Then again, Kakashi has nothing to be ashamed of - he's slim yet muscular, not to mention that he's well hung, too. Who would be embarrassed about looking that good? Genma savors the moment, knowing they probably won't ever be blessed with a model this sexy again.

When Dr. Sadowski calls for a twenty minute break, Genma tries not to openly ogle Kakashi as he bends over to pick up his robe. Unsurprisingly, his ass looks like it was chiseled by God, and Genma tries to burn the image of it into his mind.

"I'm surprised you didn't sketch yourself sucking him off. Your eyes are practically boggling out of your head," Kotetsu remarks, and Genma almost stabs him with his pencil.

"Shit," Genma mutters. "Say it a little louder, why don't you?" He's offended even though he knows it's true.

"You're not even denying it!" Kotetsu cackles.

"Should've drawn myself throwing your body over a bridge," Genma says. "I'm feeling inspired."

"Woah, woah. Relax." Kotetsu claps him twice on the shoulder. "We all know you're the class jizz bucket, bro. No need to fight it."

Genma flips him off. "Whatever."

Kotetsu just grins and pulls out his smokes, waves the box under Genma's nose. "Wanna join me?"

"Nah. I'll stay put," Genma says. The idea of lighting up is tempting, but he's trying to quit to save the extra cash. He settles on chewing his pencil and doodling cartoons in the margins of his notebook.

Class resumes and Kakashi walks back in. Genma looks over and catches Min-jun turn red when Kakashi drops his robe again; it's consoling to know he isn't the only one who thinks their model is ridiculously attractive. He wonders why they couldn't have had a middle aged woman or an old geezer instead - at least then it wouldn't have been so difficult to finish the assignment.

Kakashi sits down on the platform this time, props one leg up and drapes his arm over his knee. Genma's eyes hone in on the poorly healed scar on Kakashi's bicep, the prominent veins in his forearms, the Grecian angle of his nose - his distinct features are an artist's dream. Genma starts working from the bottom up, uses broad sweeps of charcoal for Kakashi's feet and calves. When he gets to Kakashi's thighs, he can't help but wonder how they'd look spread wide beneath his palms, muscles straining.

Genma suppresses a groan and almost erases a hole into the paper. His imagination is going straight to his dick, just like he predicted. He abandons the sketch and concentrates on Kakashi's profile instead. As he works, he decides that he likes the slightly pointed tips of Kakashi's ears, the beauty mark near his jawline.

Class ends before he knows it. Genma studies his sketchpad, the crude shapes of Kakashi's body and his half-assed attempts at a portrait. It was kind of a crappy session, but at least he has something to work with later.

-o-

Mozart's Piano Concerto No. 21 is playing when Genma unlocks the door to his apartment, which means Yamato is still studying. He sighs and kicks off his shoes, eager to hit the couch and zone out. When he heads into the kitchen and cracks open a beer, he notices a post-it on the freezer addressed with his name and a note: _'Art supplies in sink for 3 days?'_

Genma gave Yamato the master bedroom 2 months ago when his former housemate decided to skip out and leave him with two weeks to find a subletter. Yamato had come across as intellectual and reserved, which meant no distractions from completing his final portfolio. Sadly, Yamato had also turned out to be somewhat anal retentive with a passive-aggressive way of showing it.

Honestly, Genma feels a little guilty about seeming like a slob. He drinks half the beer and proceeds to clean the entire sink along with yesterday's dishes as a peace offering. With his brushes and palettes fresh, he plays around with the idea of starting a new piece. It's been weeks since he's actually painted, and today is as good a day as any to try and break the dry spell.

Genma gets out his sketchbook and studies his drawings from class, traces his fingertips over the crude sketch of the scar on Kakashi's arm tries to imagine how he got it. He envisions Kakashi fending off an innocent bystander from a criminal, pure grit and valor. It's a silly fantasy, really, but it gets the ball rolling. His imagination drifts back to the idea of samurai; before he knows it, he's sketching Kakashi as a modern day Ronin taking out criminals on the streets of Seattle. A few hours go by and he's so absorbed that he hardly notices Yamato come into the living room.

"That's pretty cool," Yamato remarks. Genma nods as he lays down a swirl of blood orange for the setting sun, smears some clouds over the horizon with his thumb. Once he gets into an intense mode of concentration, it's hard for him to snap out of it. He doesn't hear Yamato say goodnight.

He has to be up in five hours, but the finished product on his easel is worth it. The vivid sunset on the horizon bleeds into the streets, screaming of warfare and triumph; and the samurai at the center of it all radiates as he plunges his sword into the shoulder of his enemy. The samurai's features are somewhat reminiscent of Kakashi's, and Genma likes how the piece has the same mysterious quality he found so appealing in their model.

Genma stands back and looks at the canvas again. He can't shake that nagging feeling that something is missing. After a few moments of intense deliberation, he takes a thin brush and paints a beauty mark on the Ronin's cheek, small enough that only he'll know it's there.

* * *

End Notes: I'm not sure what I liked more about writing this chapter - Kotetsu being sassy as hell, or Kakashi stripping. We all need more naked Kakashi in our lives. Also, I totally enjoyed breaking the fourth wall by making Genma paint Kakashi as a samurai (see: Vagabonds). Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


End file.
